The Erased

“How did you get in there?” Her lips continue to shape words addressed to a stranger.

    All I can do is stare at her like a goldfish in its aquarium, sounds made distant by the water.

“I should have double-checked that I closed the door.” She mutters in a pissed-off tone before glancing briefly at my bandages. “A thief… Go away before I call the police, girl.”

    A stranger… And that stranger, it’s me.

    Not waiting for my reaction, she takes a shoe lying on a nearby furniture and throws it at me. I crouch just in time to avoid the pump hitting the door with a bang.

“What’s happening? What does that mean?”

    No words. I still have no words to utter, to address her, even the moment I turn around and grip the knob to cross that threshold before another pump can hit my back.

    I run away from the house I’m supposed to live in, the house where I ate alongside jailers for seventeen years now. I already crossed the small gate the moment a loud noise lets me know the door has closed behind me.

    Lost, my steps slow down, and before I notice it I’m standing still. Metres away from that house.

    Heh. I thought I would have run without stopping, until my legs broke. Yet I am here, standing in the middle of the street, as if I just forgot how to walk.

    Is this a dream? Am I gonna awake soon, only to discover I’ve simply been knocked out by her hands avid of my pain?

    To awake… Is this what I want, or…

“You look like you just lost something.”

    The familiar sound of his annoying voice makes me raise my eyes at the white rabbit.

    The sun now hidden behind the line of houses, the burning hues of the sky deceptively colour a world about to fade to black. Once again. I hope it won’t be a cloudy night. I hope I’ll be able to spot a few stars up there.

“Lost?”

    A dry chuckle pauses my words.

“Did I? What just happened… has no sense. My…” I trail off, unwilling to use that word to describe her, “…she didn’t recognise me. She chased me away. As if I never belonged to that house.”

    As I vaguely try to find a reason, all that comes to my mind is a memory from this morning, the way he seemed to hesitate even after hearing my name. Do they… Both?

“As if she forgot you?” Poltergeist asks.

    My eyes widen as a thought begins to shape.

“Did she, did they use magic? Are they magic holders as well?”

    But Rubeus shakes his head.

“The only one using magic in this house is you.” Poltergeist replies. “And you used it again today, right?”

“Wait… How do you know this?”

“I told you that before you became part of the troop. If you use magic, Rubeus we’ll be aware of it.”

    That boy reminds of dogs able to sniff drugs. Good thing he doesn’t work for the police, or we’d all be dead by now.

“Then how is it even possible? They’re two acting as if I didn’t live with them for all these years.”

“It seems obvious to me, though. Are you not even able to gueskppumf-” Poltergeist is incapacitated by Rubeus’s hand, unable to continue with this smug tone. To which he protests vividly, his paws shaking messily.

“You said you still have memories from your childhood,” Rubeus continues instead, “of when you were but a toddler. Yet you used a great amount of mana. By now, it is impossible you remember that much. Unless…” He pauses. “…other memories than yours have been consumed.”

    His words leave me dumbfounded. The hell is he saying…

“Nonsense. You said magic’s fuel is one’s own memories.”

    A moment of silence follows, only disturbed by Poltergeist’s pathetic blows against Rubeus’s hand.

“That can’t be true, right?” I end up adding.

“If the truth isn’t the truth, then the not-truth is the truth.” Rubeus cryptically says. “It’s not your memories, but the memories people have of you that are being ripped from that world.”

    Oddly, I feel a pang in my heart at his conclusion. I thought I’d never really be affected by it. Forgetting what ties me to people I hate… why would it bother me? Sure, there are some memories I don’t want to lose. But as long as magic can help me find Mr. Izawa before I forget him, I’ll still be able to stop using magic then, right? To share new moments, as brief as they are, with him. But if… what if he forgets me? Why does this pain me this much…

“Now that my progenitors have forgotten me, I can’t return home any more. When people become strangers again, then you’re but a nuisance. There’s no way to create new memories.”

    There aren’t that many people I interacted with, not enough to have a decent amount of memories with them. Then, if what Rubeus says is true, who’ll be the next to forget me?

“Most likely…” Rubeus begins, “The moment you won’t be able to use magic any more will be the moment no one remembers you.”

    I clench my fists, trying not to let out any emotion.

“This means… Mr. Izawa, the troop, they will forget me? You as well, you will end up not remembering who I am?” I stare at Rubeus.

    A nod answers me.

    I bite my lip.

“I see.”

    Averting my gaze, I resume walking.

“Will you keep using magic?” Rubeus asks in his ever calm voice.

“I still have to find him.”

    The moment I bypass him, Rubeus frees the white rabbit from his grip to catch my arm instead.

    The touch makes me twitch, but my thoughts clouding my mind, I don’t even overreact. Heh, for once. But now there’s no chance I forget what makes me jump each time someone gets too close. It will remain anchored in my body.

“Where are you going?” Rubeus questions, the white rabbit glancing up at me.

    I cast the blond boy a side glance.

“I have no more home. If they don’t remember me, then I can’t pretend to stay. My place is not here; it’s nowhere. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know where I’m not.”

“She’s silly, isn’t it?” Poltergeist chimes in.

“Hahh? Do you want to fight or somet-”

“You have a home.” Rubeus shamelessly interrupts me, letting me stare at him. “You’re the one who doesn’t forget, then you should remember that you’re part of the Clockwork Dolls Circus. This place is yours, as much as it’s ours.”

    I can feel my nails pressing into my palms.

    Idiot.

    I have to fight back the tears desiring to roll down my cheeks. I have to fight back the urge to thank him, to show him what it means to me. How his words just saved me.

    If I get too honest, if I show too much affection, then it’ll happen once more. I’ll lose someone.

    Rubeus might have understood that I have no answer to his sly attack, or at least no protest to make, since we just start walking down the street.

“Not gonna cry for your parents?” Poltergeist feels required to ask, leaning closer as if looking out for the smallest droplet at the corner of my eyes.

“You wish.” I reply in a dry yet faint chuckle. “I haven’t chosen them. We may share blood, but we have no bond worthy of my tears.”

    At these words, I turn one last time my eyes back at the place I left.

    Is this a curse, is this a blessing? I am the missing one. Missing from their memories.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

    The first to greet us when we reach the circus is the director, to whom Poltergeist doesn’t miss explaining my newly homeless situation.

    The director, wearing his top hat and his impeccable costume, holds his hands intertwined against his back. If his bird-like mask doesn’t betray his reaction, the hand he presses pensively under his black, pointy nose, hints at his concern.

“Your magic would consume memories people hold of you?” The director taps his index finger against his mask. “That is an unseen case. That, at least, for as much as I remember.”

    A bit of humour that makes me frown in a puzzled way. Speak of a poor choice of words. Useless to say, but only silence greets what I assume is an attempt to lighten the mood. Even Poltergeist stares blankly at him.

“Anyway,” the director resumes as if nothing happened, “Rubeus is right. Consider the circus your home, you’ll find here no enemies. A place to sleep, friends along whom you can laugh… Ahh, I know. Is tomorrow your birthday, Megumi?”

    The unexpected question startles me, but I quickly recover.

“Errr… No.”

“Splendid!” He exclaims with a twist of his wrists, extending his fingers at me. “Then let’s have a party to celebrate your moving-in. Rubeus, I count on you for the arrangements.”

    And on these words, the director seems to be done with us.

    As he bypasses us, I remember though all the questions left unanswered after the Marine Tower accident.

“Wait!”

    Fumbling with my bag, I hurry to retrieve the cap I luckily kept inside. Of course, all I achieve is to make it fall in the process.

    The director, who turned back at me, is quicker than me to react. Leaning forward, he delicately takes the cap, straightening up with no haste.

“Where… did you find this?” His head tilted towards the cap, he holds it now in both his hands.

“That’s… That’s Mr. Izawa’s cap.” I answer. “He always wears one.”

    A silence follows. I don’t know why, but for a short while it’s as if I forgot how to speak. All I can do is observe the director staring at it.

    It’s short… And yet, it lingers longer than it should.

“The Jikininkis…” I end up mumbling. “One of them vaguely said something. Well, as much as you can call it ‘saying’. He was interested in it… It was like he wanted to know where… Where is Mr. Izawa. Maybe. I mean, I think.” I clench my fists, praying for these words to be true, hoping uttering them won’t bring bad luck upon us. “I think they know something about Mr. Izawa, and they’re still looking for him. He’s alive.”

    The director turns his gaze at me.

“That’s great news, Megumi. I’m sure you’ll find him. You can ask your comrades to go on patrols with you, there’s no doubt they’ll be willing to help. But don’t get too reckless. Don’t fight alone.”

    Finally, he hands me back the cap.

    He adds nothing more then, as he simply turns to leave.

    With a frown, I can’t help but keep my eyes on his back, watching him walk away.